your mother all alone at night. Is it far you have to go?"

"To a vineyard by Anacapri."

"And I to Capri. So now God bless you, child--and you, my son."

Laurella kissed his hand, and let one farewell drop, for the padre
and Antonio to divide between them. Antonio, however, appropriated
no part of it to himself; he pulled off his cap exclusively to the
padre, without even looking at Laurella. But after they had turned
their backs, he let his eyes travel but a short way with the padre,
as he went toiling over the deep bed of small, loose stones; he soon
sent them after the maiden, who, turning to the right, had begun to
climb the heights, holding one hand above her eyes to protect them
from the scorching sun. Just before the path disappeared behind high
walls, she stopped, as if to gather breath, and looked behind her.
At her feet lay the marina; the rugged rocks rose high around her;
the sea was shining in the rarest of its deep-blue splendor. The
scene was surely worth a moment's pause. But, as chance would have
it, her eyes, in glancing past Antonio's boat, met Antonio's own,
which had been following her as she climbed.

Each made a slight movement, as persons do who would excuse
themselves for some mistake; and then, with her darkest look, the
maiden went her way.

Hardly one hour had passed since noon, and yet for the last two
Antonio had been sitting waiting on the bench before the fishers'
tavern. He must have been very much preoccupied with something, for
he jumped up every moment to step out into the sunshine, and look